


for every wall inside my chest

by timeinthetardis



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, finale speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-08
Updated: 2014-05-08
Packaged: 2018-01-23 23:16:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1582994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeinthetardis/pseuds/timeinthetardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zelena has been defeated, everyone is safe, the town is happy, and Emma is a mess. She escapes the celebration at Granny's to have a heart-to-heart with a certain pirate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	for every wall inside my chest

**Author's Note:**

> _Lover, I smashed my glass slipper to build a stained glass window for every wall inside my chest_  
>  (Andrea Gibson, Maybe I Need You)

“To the little prince!” Leroy roars, raising his glass to meet Victor's with a proud smile. The rest of the diner follows suit, echoing his cheer and his movement in waves of clinking glasses. Most of the town is crammed into the place, filling the remaining space with brightly colored balloons and piles of gifts for the new baby. Ruby cranks up the jukebox, letting some sickly-sweet old pop song bubble through the chaos of an entire kingdom celebrating the birth of their prince.

Emma is trapped in her usual booth with David, Mary Margaret, and her baby brother, her cheeks aching as she smiles at a never-ending stream of well-wishers. Her parents hardly notice the madness around them, entirely focused on each other and their new child, and she can't help the slight ache in her heart as she watches them. She's happy for them, she really is, because her parents get a second chance (and doesn't she know how valuable that is, how you have to hold onto those opportunities with a death grip because they definitely won't come around for a third time) and her kid brother is incredibly cute, but also because Mary Margaret had been her best friend before the curse broke and you can't help but be happy for your best friend when she's practically glowing with joy. 

But all of her genuine delight, and the merriment of the crowd around her, can't keep her from feeling somewhat extraneous in all this excitement. 

She can see Ruby dancing with Belle (much to Rumple's dismay, if the pinched look on his face is any indication), Regina and Robin laughing at Roland's antics, Henry holding court with a few of the other children, Granny scolding Victor as he attempts to cut a pie for her, and everyone else chattering away like they couldn't be happier. It's all so _normal_ , so _sweet_ , so different from the environment of fear that she's used to here in Storybrooke, and it feels strange. She can't find Killian anywhere in the crowd (not that she's looking for him), and she can't get a real drink here to help her deal with her growing unease. 

It's all too much. The lights blazing down, the steadily increasing volume of the room, the overwhelming knowledge that she is not to thank for the safety of the realm this time and had in fact put everything in jeopardy over Killian (but she can't find it in herself to regret it, she wouldn't even if Zelena had won in the end)- it all combines in a harsh pulsing behind her eyes. Emma is sliding out of the booth and pushing her way through the crowd before her mind catches up with her body, drawing in deep breaths of the cool spring air as she makes her escape. The sound of the little bell is easily swallowed by the noise of the celebration, and she quickly shuts the door behind her. 

Making her way down the abandoned Main Street, she turns into a tiny alleyway and away from Granny's enormous windows. She lets herself collapse against the wall, fingers tracing the rough brick as she closes her eyes. It's actually kind of nice, being able to take a breather outside of the loft without having to worry about being attacked by yet another magical psychopath. It might be peaceful, out here in the quiet spring afternoon, if she could get her heart to slow the hell down.

“Swan?”

The familiar voice jolts her out of practicing the breathing exercises she learned at a yoga class in New York during the year-that-wasn't (in through your nose, out through your mouth, in through your-), and her eyes pop open to reveal Hook ( _Killian_ ) peering over at her from the mouth of the alley.

“Hey,” she says, trying for a smile, “why aren't you at the party?”

“I could ask the same of you, lass,” he says, walking slowly towards her. “The princeling is your brother, after all, not mine.” 

She has a sarcastic response to that on the tip of her tongue, but it doesn't quite make it past her lips as she meets his gaze. His face is as guarded as she's ever seen, eyes carefully blank, and she thinks this is the least animated she's ever seen him. 

“I'll let you catch your breath, then,” he says finally, turning to leave, and she just _can't_ anymore with this fucking ridiculous life of hers. She lunges forward, grabbing his arm and pulling him back to face her.

“Wait. Killian, I-” He's staring at her, one eyebrow raised, and she runs her free hand through her hair as she blows a out a frustrated breath. “I want to... apologize.”

“I'm listening.”

She swallows hard, but meets his eyes. For all that she hates eating crow, Emma never shies away from admitting it when she _knows_ she did something wrong. “I've been pretty horrible to you, way worse than you deserved. That crack about your hand the other day was completely inappropriate. And I'm sorry.” 

“Forgiven and forgotten, Swan.” He turns to leave again, but she keeps her hold on his arm. 

“No, that's not all. I do... trust you, you know. David was right, you were just trying to help, and I overreacted a bit. I just wish you'd found a way to tell me about your- your curse.” He looks ready to interrupt, and she releases her grip on him to hold her hand out placatingly. “But you've been on our side since Neverland, and I should've remembered that.” 

“Aye.” He hesitates, then settles with his back next to her against the wall. “Thank you.”

She shoots him a small smile and tries not to notice how much more at ease she feels with him by her side. He's staring up at the tiny sliver of sky visible above them, but his earlier stiffness has vanished, and it feels like the pair of them against the world yet again (and when had she started thinking things like _that_?).

“I'll miss you, you know,” she says after a long moment of silence, bumping her shoulder against his. He looks over at her sharply, lips firming in a thin line as he scans her face. 

“You're still going back to New York, then.”

Running her fingers through her hair again, she nods, keeping her voice as breezy as possible (it sounds strange coming out of her mouth, and she wonders if she's ever been able to pull off 'light and casual' or if she's just lost the knack since she came here). “Henry's going to stay here, with Regina, but I'm going to come visit as much as I can. He isn't thrilled, but it's for the best. More space for all of us.”

“Why are you still running away, Swan?” he growls (no, seriously, it rumbles out of his chest and she's kind of taken aback), shoving himself off the wall and pacing in front of her. “Zelena is gone, your family has been reunited, and everything you want is real here. What are you still looking for?”

“Home,” she whispers, pushing on as he shakes his head. “Look, I can't stay here, okay?”

“And why not? I've never known you to be cowardly before, Swan,” and oh, that stings, as does the crushing disappointment on his face (it's better than the blankness, but that's not saying much). She buries her hands in her hair, biting her lip in an attempt to keep quiet. “Emma.”

“I don't belong here anymore,” she bursts out, and he actually stops pacing to stare at her. But now she's started talking, and she can't seem to stop, words tumbling over each other at a speed she can't control. “I'm not- I don't know who I am here, now. I was lost for so long, and then I came to Storybrooke and I found Henry and my parents and magic- I found out I was the fucking Savior for an entire realm! And it was terrifying, really terrifying, but at least I knew where I fit in here, right? Even if I never felt safe, even if it was horrible, I knew I needed to be here. But now I don't.”

She slams her mouth shut, pressing her face into her hands and cursing under her breath. 

“You're still needed here, Swan,” he says quietly, and she can't help but laugh at that, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

“I'm not. I lost my magic, Regina saved us, and I'm just taking up space.” She's ranting again, she knows it, but the connection between her mouth and her brain seems to be severed because as much as she tries she just _will not stop talking_. “I know I said I never wanted to be the Savior, that I just wanted to be free, and that's true. I'm _glad_ that I don't have that weight on my shoulders. But without that, I don't really fit in here. We were all working together to break the curse, or beat the witch, or whatever, and that gave us something in common. Now, I'm here with people who grew up in a totally different world, and I'm supposed to- what? Track down rogue fairies? Open up a shop? I don't belong here.”

She manages a sarcastic smirk as she pauses to catch her breath, avoiding his eyes. His hand and hook land on her wrists lightly, the cool metal and rough palm grounding her enough that she can remember that stupid yoga instructor ( _in through your nose, out through your mouth, in through-_ ).

“Take it easy there, Swan,” he murmurs, his hand sliding to gently rub up and down her arm. “You're not alone in this, you know, lass. What's this town got to offer an old pirate?” 

He says it lightly, almost as a joke, but she can feel that little grain of truth in his words and it makes her heart hurt. 

“Henry likes you, and so does David,” she says, her cheeks heating up. “Even I like you, when you aren't being an idiot.”

“That's high praise from you, lass,” he replies, “although a man generally likes to have a life outside of three people and a host of former enemies.”

“Well, if the delights of Storybrooke don't keep you entertained after I'm gone,” she says, words popping out against her will yet again (and _what the hell_ , brain?), “New York is a pretty exciting place.”

He raises his eyebrows even as his eyes light up, and he steps a little closer to her. “Is that an invitation, Swan?”

She manages a smile (back in familiar territory, with smirking and joking and oh, _god_ , she had missed this more than she realized). “The food is pretty great. Way better than that bologna you tried.”

He actually winces at the memory, and she laughs. His face brightens even more, like he's never seen her laugh, and something in her stomach does a crazy little flutter as he grins at her. 

“Listen, Emma,” he says, sobering slightly, “there's something I wanted to-”

“Emma!” 

There's a sudden rush of movement in the street, and David's panicked voice rings out over the fearful babble of the townspeople. Exchanging a glance with Killian, Emma hurries out of the alleyway and towards the entrance to Granny's. David is standing by the door with Regina and Robin, one arm wrapped around Mary Margaret's shoulders.

“What's up?” Emma asks, just as Henry bursts through the door and flings his arms around her waist. “Henry?”

“It's Rumplestiltskin,” David says grimly, nodding in acknowledgement when Killian comes to join their circle. “He's killed Zelena.”

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” Emma cries, one hand coming to rest on the back of Henry's head. “At least it wasn't someone we like this time.”

“It's more than just the murder, actually, Emma,” Regina says, her lips half-curled in distaste. “He's managed to set something off, something magical.”

“What do you mean?” Killian sounds, if possible, more dumbfounded than Emma feels, and it's almost comforting to know that she's not the only one who is completely lost.

In response, Regina points over their heads. Following her hand, they see a patch of brilliantly green sky, leading into yet another _fucking_ smoke-beast cloud thing (as Emma so eloquently referred to it in her head _every_ time one manifested).

“You've got to be kidding me,” Emma breathes, wrapping her free arm around Henry. “This bitch does not know when to quit.”

“Language,” Mary Margaret admonishes, but her heart clearly isn't in the rebuke. 

“What do we do?” Emma asks, unable to tear her eyes away from the swirling cloud. “If Zelena's dead, the time-travel curse was stopped, right? So what is this?”

“I'm not sure,” Regina admits, “but we probably need to get closer.”

Emma's head whips around. “Closer?” 

“Well, I can hardly assess the situation from here,” she snaps, eyes flashing. “It's not as if I _want_ to get up close and personal with another curse. But we can't send Rumple, not after he did this, and I'm the only other one of us with magic.”

“And she isn't going alone,” Robin says firmly, wrapping his hand around hers.

“No, of course not,” Emma mutters, running her fingers through Henry's hair. “I'll go with her.”

“What? No!” cries Mary Margaret, gripping her son more tightly in her arms. “You don't have magic now, you don't need to go.”

“Nobody else has magic, but Regina is going to need back-up. We have no idea what's in there. You need to stay here with the baby, Robin needs to stay with Roland, and Henry-” she looks down at her son sternly, “you need to stay with them, too.”

“But Mom-” Henry begins, before Regina cuts him off.

“No, she's right, you need to stay here. And there's always the chance that her magic could come back. Mortal danger, protecting the family and all that.”

“You think so?” Emma asks, a little ashamed at the tiny spark of hope welling deep within her.

Regina shrugs. “It would make as much sense as anything else.”

“I'll escort you as well,” Killian says, hand resting on his cutlass. “The pair of you have never had the best luck with curses.” 

“And you have?” Regina rolls her eyes. “Fine, so I'm bringing the Savior and the pirate-”

“And me,” David says, but Emma is already shaking her head.

“David, you have to keep everyone else calm. They'll trust you.”

“I'm not letting you go into a potentially dangerous situation without me-”

“I think that ship has sailed, mate,” Killian mutters. David shoots him a glare, but stops protesting. 

Regina squints at the mass of smoke, which is slowly shaping itself into a cyclone. “We need to hurry.”

Emma nods and quickly moves to hug her family, studiously ignoring the more amorous farewell between the former Evil Queen and the famous thief.

“Be careful,” Mary Margaret says, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “You can't leave your little brother alone with us.” Her father hugs her tightly, one hand cradling the back of her head, and Emma wonders (yet again) how many more times they will be rushing through their farewells. Her worries about her future suddenly seem so petty, and she clutches Henry in one last hug before Regina swoops in for their son. She looks up to see Killian watching her, his eyes serious in spite of his sarcastic smirk. 

“Emma Swan and Regina Mills, off to save the realm once again,” Killian teases, making both women laugh through their anxiety, and the trio sets off towards the farm.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to stay updated on my writing (or join the fun of constant CS blogging), please feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://in-each-place-and-forever.tumblr.com/) and/or my [writing tumblr](http://distinct-elements-of-speech.tumblr.com/).


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